


so glad to meet you

by girljustdied



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: cook and effy wash their clothes and break shit.





	so glad to meet you

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was “It's turned to midnight and this cheap champagne is wearing off. She's tearing off her dress, god I'm such a mess, and in the dark she's taking shots at my heart. She's got it to an art, and this is how I fall apart.”

The neck of the champagne bottle tastes vaguely like Cook’s sick. He can hold his liquor, but not shellfish, apparently.

“Allergic,” he claims, offended that she’d suggest his inability to drown in a sea of alcohol was compromised, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Then why’d you eat it, Cook? Fuck’s sake.” But it’s a stupid question, really. Food’s hard to come by; they eat what they can manage to get their hands on.

“S’all right,” he rubs at his reddened eyes with dirty fingernails until she grabs his arms and links them around her waist instead. “Feelin’ better already, princess.”

She leans away from his acrid breath and braces herself before taking another pull of champagne, then lets it hang from a loose fist and slings her other arm around his neck as he walks her backwards in a bastardization of some sort of dance. Her back hits a brick wall with surprising gentleness, and he leans in to kiss her—

“No,” she puts the bottle between them. “Drink up.”

He takes a generous swig, and gurgles the liquid in the back of his throat before swallowing. Takes another gulp before handing the bottle back off to her.

He’s all smiles, Cook, but that’s only the half of it.

“Pig,” she grins.

“Now where’s my spoonful of sugar, girl?”

His fair skin is dotted with small, burst blood vessels all around his eyes, across his cheeks. She traces constellations in them with a tip of a nail until he ducks his head against the scrutiny and starts toying with the fraying threads of her clothes.

The wall belongs to a twenty-four hour laundromat, deserted by the looks of it except for a blonde attendant behind a counter in the back watching something on a small television.

“Come on,” she tells him, leads him by the hand through the glass door.

He’s not stupid, Cook. Strips off his vomit-covered shirt and drops it in a washer before strutting back towards the woman to give her a bit of what he thinks is charm. Effy watches him with a smile tugging on her lips as he leans and postures and holds his arms so that his muscles can’t help but flex. Thinks, who is she kidding, there’s something to it. Something to him. Just like there seemed to be something about her.

He returns with a box of detergent and a handful of coins for the machine, proud as punch.

When she tugs her dress up over her head, she can feel his eyes on her. Fucking ordinary, she thinks, until he reaches forward and touches the sharp outline of a rib. It’s been almost a month; she’s lost quite a bit of weight. A frown edges across his features and stays there as he slips off his shoes and divests himself of everything but his underwear. She follows suit, tries to make it seem like nothing. Has never felt so naked.

They finish the champagne while their clothes spin clean, walking outside on empty streets barely clothed and freezing. Cook uses the empty bottle to break the window of a small grocery shop, and they stuff their faces.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Eff,” he’s militantly sincere. It’s a good look on him, but makes her feel scared and unsure and sort of like running back home.

She grips her belly, past that uncomfortable fullness, and gets sick all over his lap. Cook can’t stop laughing, and after a bit, neither can she. He kisses her straight on the mouth like it’s nothing.


End file.
